Minjae watched the video he had taken of the latest dance practice, the members of his group bunched around him. He paused the video at the sloppiest part, and everyone winced. "Yeah, that needs work," he said.
Ara ran a hand through his sweaty, newly bleached hair. "I don't know if I can even stand up on my own right now."
"Tomorrow. We warm up at nine and drill this part until it's good." Minjae turned off his phone, slid it into his pocket, bent down, and grabbed his bag off the floor. He waited until everyone else had grabbed their things and filed out before double-checking the room and then flipping all the lights off.
To his surprise, Ara was waiting for him out in the hall and fell into step with him as they headed to the elevator. "So how's it going with Alex?"
Minjae's hand tightened convulsively around the strap slung over his shoulder. "I think it's going fine. We text almost every day."
Ara had a smile on his face as they got into the elevator. "I had a feeling you two would click."
Minjae nodded. He loved Ara like a younger brother, just like the rest of the team, but he really wanted to be alone so he could stop thinking in English. The downside to being in a global group was that they could really only communicate in English. They all knew a little of each others' languages from spending so much time together, but it was not enough to have a productive conversation. So English it was. And Minjae desperately needed to revert back to his factory settings and think in his own language for a while. "We've clicked. Did you want a prize for it or something?"
Ara rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Alex is my friend. I'm just curious about what's going on."
"Then text him yourself," Minjae muttered in Korean.
Ara cocked his head. "You just told me off, didn't you?"
Minjae sighed as the elevator doors opened with a ding and they stepped out onto the ground floor. "I'm tired, Ara. If you want to know more about me and Alex, just text him. I honestly can't even think straight in Korean, not to mention English."
Ara blinked at him like he was surprised Minjae got tired. "Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow, hyung." They split at the main entrance, each heading to their own apartments.
Minjae lived fairly close to the company, close enough that he could get there in under fifteen minutes if there was an emergency but far enough that he did not have to look at the company building every time he opened his windows. He fumbled with his keys in the hallway, finally getting the right one into the lock and turning it. His apartment had a keypad beside the door, but he preferred using his key. He had been frustrated too many times by not remembering the code in his tired after-practice state. He pushed into the apartment, set his things down, shut and locked the door, and kicked off his shoes. He dragged his bag behind him, intending to start a load of laundry and then make himself some food. His plans were thrown back in his face like a bucket of ice water when he saw her sitting on the couch, just watching him. He chucked his bag toward the small laundry room. "Get out."
Han Jisoo just stared at him like she did not understand. Maybe she honestly could not understand why someone as pathetic as Minjae had broken up with a famous drama actress like her. "I think we need to talk," she said in that infuriatingly smooth, unaffected voice.
"There's nothing left to talk about. We ended it. It's over. It's been over for two months. Stop fucking showing up in my apartment." He pinched the bridge of his nose to try and alleviate his headache. "You know what? I'm calling the police." He grabbed his phone and dialed the number. "I'm getting a restraining order against you right now."
"What?" she shrieked as he hit the call button. "I just want to–"
"Yes, hello," he interrupted as the call connected. "My name is Park Minjae." He gave his address and then said, "I have a trespasser in my apartment."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jisoo yelled, getting up off the couch.
"Yes, it's the woman screaming in the background," he said in response to the dispatcher's question. "And you might want to add assault and battery to the trespassing charge," he added as Jisoo slapped him and started clawing for the phone.
"Fuck you," she snarled. "I'm just trying to get you to talk to me!"
"And I don't ever want to talk to you again," he replied.
"We've dispatched a unit to your location," the dispatcher said through the phone. "I understand if you need to hang up to defend yourself."
Minjae set his phone down on the kitchen counter and pushed Jisoo just hard enough to send her stumbling back from him. "They're on their way," he warned her. "Stay if you feel like getting arrested and having this all over the news."
That got her attention, and she stood where he had pushed her to, breathing hard.
"Or we can do this the quiet way where you leave and I privately file a restraining order. We broke up, but I don't want to ruin your life."
She swallowed visibly and then collected herself, grabbing her purse off the couch and heading for the door. Without another word, she left the apartment.
Five minutes later, two police officers knocked on the door and he let them in. They took his report and agreed to file the restraining order without causing a huge scene. Then they bid him good night and left him in the silence of his apartment.
He locked the door again and started his laundry, taking off the shirt and pants he wore to add to the load. He made himself some tteokbokki and it was only when he sat down with the bowl in his lap that tears he had not even felt coming dripped down his face in hot, wet lines. He was not the leader of a sensational global group in that moment. He was just Minjae, a boy who had gotten burned by his first real relationship.
Somehow he managed to eat despite the tears and, after rinsing out his bowl and the pan he had cooked with, he texted Alex good night, a habit they had begun a couple days ago. It was a way of signaling not to text until at least eight hours later, removing the guesswork and timezone headaches from their relationship. He smiled a little when Alex texted the two words back immediately. Plugging in his phone beside his bed, he finished the load of laundry and then went to bed, eyes still stinging from the salt in his tears.
He got up and got into the company before eight the next morning, where he turned on half the lights in the practice room to provide dim lighting. He warmed up by himself and drilled his problem parts until the other members showed up at nine. He went through the warmup again with them, had them practice the one bad part multiple times, and then recorded a runthrough.
Everyone looked relieved when the part that had made them all cringe yesterday was no longer cringe-worthy. Jerkiness had smoothed out and confidence was beginning to shine through. They did some more targeted practice on other weak sections and filmed another full runthrough right before breaking for lunch.
When Minjae's phone buzzed against his leg, he pulled it out, smiling at the message from Alex.
Good morning.
Good morning, he typed back. How are you?
Eh. That one word sent Minjae's heart up into his throat. It was a careless response, one that he had heard as friendships were starting to disintegrate. But it was quickly followed by an explanation. I've got some chronic pain, and my dad thought it was bad enough to warrant a trip to the hospital.
The answer calmed Minjae's fear of their relationship falling apart, but it sent his protective instincts into overdrive. Alex, how much are you downplaying your pain rn?
There was a long, empty moment before Alex replied, Probably more than I should. Are you mad?
No, Minjae typed back immediately. I'm worried about you, not mad. Can you tell me anything about why you're in pain?
Remember what I said the other day about my birth father?
Minjae definitely did. Alex's vague insinuation had made him grit his teeth in fury and disgust. Yes, I do. Did he do this to you?
Yeah. My half-brother got suspended for fighting a teacher and I got punished for it. I don't know if he broke something or fractured it, but my left hip has hurt every day since. Some days are better than others. Today's a bad day.
I'm so sorry. Minjae did not know what else to say. At least tell me they've got you on pain meds.
Oh yeah. But I don't really like it. Reminds me of the other times I've been in the hospital. There was a story behind that, but Alex did not need Minjae pushing for more of his trauma.
I can chat for a little while longer. Then I need to get back to practice with the group.
Tell them I say hi!
Minjae looked up and said, "Alex says hi."
Everyone grinned. "Tell him we say hi back!" Parishad exclaimed. "How's he doing?"
Minjae typed what Parishad had said as he replied, "He's in the hospital for an old injury."
Ara's eyes went huge. "Oh my god," he whispered, going for his phone.
"Uh-uh," Minjae warned him. "Don't overwhelm him. He's on painkillers and he doesn't want to be there. Text him when he gets home."
Ara pouted but put his phone away and finished eating the lunch he had brought.
Alex sent a smiley face in response to Parishad's greeting, and they texted for a couple more minutes before Mila teasingly tapped her watch and they had to say goodbye.
As he stood up to begin practice again, Minjae wished he could be with Alex in person, if only to hold his hand. Not for the first time, and certainly not the last.